tread softly because you tread on my dreams
by remuslives23
Summary: Weddings suck. Torchwood/HP crossover. Ianto/Draco, mentions of Ianto/Jack, Draco/Harry.


**Title:** tread softly (because you tread on my dreams)  
**Author:** **remuslives23**  
**Rating:** R  
**Pairing/Characters:** Ianto Jones/Draco Malfoy. Implied: Ianto/Jack, Draco/Harry  
**Word Count:** 1020  
**Summary:** Weddings suck.  
**Notes:** Written for **bryoneybrynn** for the **lover100** prompt: strained. She asked for Draco/Ianto. Day Six of **mmom**.  
**Contains:** Harry Potter/Torchwood crossover. Public sex. No offence to redheads intended.  
**Episode References:** Harry Potter: Set post-DH (epilogue compliant). Torchwood: Set just after 'Something Borrowed'.  
**Disclaimer:** This fiction is based on characters and situations created and owned by Russell T Davies and JK Rowling. No money is being made and no offense is intended. Characters are of legal age for sexual situations.

* * *

Ianto pushed the blond up against the wall in a shadowy corner of the nightclub, nipping at the straining tendon in his neck. The other man groaned, arching into Ianto, pushing their groins together. Their already hard cocks collided, and Ianto's teeth sank into pale flesh as he groaned.

A hand snuck between them, the long, elegant fingers Ianto had known he wanted around his cock from the moment he saw them wrapped around a tumbler of whiskey cupping the bulge in his pants. The blond's hair was stained pink then blue under the strobing lights and Ianto sank a hand into the light tresses, tipping his head back so the other man could mouth hungrily at his neck.

Ianto slid his free hand down his partner's back – dragging his fingers along the bumpy ridges of his spine – before working it inside the back of his trousers. His fingers bit into satin-smooth flesh, pulling the lean body close and slotting their hips together more comfortably. Ianto rocked against the narrow hips, sliding a leg between the other man's, and the blond lifted his head, staring at Ianto through glazed eyes.

'What's your name?' he asked, leaning close to make himself heard over the thumping beat.

'Does it matter?' Ianto muttered, rutting against the hand covering the front of his jeans.

The blond tightened his hand dangerously around Ianto's balls, and Ianto swallowed down a panicked yelp. 'I don't fuck complete strangers,' he said firmly.

Ianto raised his head, taking in the steely-grey eyes and haughty quirk of a eyebrow. 'Ianto,' he said grudgingly. 'And you?'

'Draco.'

'Pleased to meet you, Draco,' Ianto said, sarcastically 'Can I put my hand on your dick now?'

Draco smirked. 'I insist on it.'

Ianto slipped his hand around Draco's hip and palmed the jutting ridge of his erection roughly. Draco's eyelids fluttered and his head fell back, hitting the wall with a thump. 'Merlin,' he sighed into Ianto's ear, and Ianto screwed up his face in confusion, sure he'd misheard.

'What?'

Draco blinked at him then shook his head. 'Nothing.' He glanced down at his crotch suggestively. 'Are you planning on doing anything with that now you've got your hands on it?'

Ianto rolled his eyes and yanked his hand out of Draco's trousers. He jerked down the zipper then gripped the other man's cock once again, thumbing the damp fabric of his briefs that lay snug over the head of his erection. 'Better?' he growled.

'Much.' Draco lurched forward and crashed their mouths together, biting and licking aggressively at Ianto's lips. His actions drew an equally violent response from Ianto, who pinned Draco against the wall and thrust wildly against him, giving his body and mind over to raw carnality because this was _exactly_ what he wanted tonight. Something dirty and filthy with someone he didn't have to face in the morning, someone who wouldn't break his damn heart. And Draco was perfect. He was thin where Jack was broad, light where Jack was dark, quiet where Jack was loud. He new and unfamiliar and the distinction was just what Ianto needed to forget the wistfulness in his lover's gaze as he watched a bride and groom dance.

_Bastard._

Ianto kneaded the hot shaft pressing against his palm, groaning when he felt the confines caging his own cock disappear as if by magic. 'Christ,' he yelped as Draco's cool fingers burned like fire against his heated fleash. A thumb circled the crown, smearing spilled pre-come over the silky skin then wriggled teasingly against the slit.

Ianto slipped his hand inside Draco's briefs, both men groaning as he squeezed Draco's shaft. He rubbed his palm over the head, working the pre-come across his hand, slicking it to make the slide easier. He jacked Draco firmly, short, sharp strokes in time with the throbbing beat that vibrated through them.

Draco rocked forward, pushing his cock into Ianto's fist. 'Faster,' he hissed, undulating his hips. Ianto increased his speed, and Draco moaned, 'Oh, that's good.'

He matched Ianto's pace with his own hand, both of them moving sinuously in an erotic parody of their earlier gyrations on the dance floor. Draco's teeth grazed Ianto's jaw and arousal spiked. Ianto turned his head and kissed Draco urgently, muffling his cry against Draco's lips as he came in juddering bursts all over those beautiful fingers.

His release triggered Draco's, the other man wrapping a long leg around Ianto's hips and pulling him in tight as he peaked, hanging onto Ianto for dear life as he shook and moaned through his orgasm.

Their rough kiss softened and slowed as the aftershocks faded then their lips parted. Draco clung to him for a moment longer; Ianto happy to allow the embrace, to, for a moment at least, be in the arms of a man who had no agenda, who bore no pretences.

They finally parted to tidy themselves up and Ianto was startled to hear Draco ask, 'So, who are you trying to forget?'

Ianto's head snapped up and he glared at a knowing looking Draco. 'Boyfriend,' Ianto grunted finally. 'Jack. Although, he'd have heart failure if he heard me call him my boyfriend. "You people and your labels. Why is the twenty-first century so restrictive?",' he quoted, putting an American twang and more than a little mocking into his voice. He raised an eyebrow at Draco in query. 'You?'

For a long moment, he thought Draco wasn't going to answer then he said, almost too quietly for Ianto to hear, 'Harry. He won't take a risk on me. He's getting married next week. To a _ginger_.'

'Weddings,' Ianto snorted in disgust as he was reminded of the reason he had sought out anonymous respite at the club in the first place. 'Fuck them. Fuck the lot of them.'

He winced at his tremulous, less-than-convincing tone and was grateful Draco didn't call him on it, which is why, when Draco answered, 'Yeah. Fuck them all,' Ianto didn't say a word about the hitch in his voice.

fin.


End file.
